


The Bartender and the Thief

by SilentSinger



Series: The Cricket Chronicles [3]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blasphemy, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Hate Sex, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Oral Sex, i love one (1) street rat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentSinger/pseuds/SilentSinger
Summary: Dennis gets a little more than he bargained for.Takes place around S07E01: Frank’s Pretty Woman – during Dennis’ moment of weakness.Written forAlways Sunny Rarepairs Two: Electric Boogaloo.





	The Bartender and the Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SunnyRarePairs2](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SunnyRarePairs2) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Dennis really needs some crack. Cricket shows him how to suck for it and gets a sick joy out of degrading him. Dennis also gets a sick joy from being degraded.

Even in the most well-adjusted of individuals, there exists a hole. You may very well be completely oblivious to its presence, but it exists nonetheless: a small, yet virulent parasite munching away at a veritable buffet of wasted potential and broken dreams. Some fill this void with hedonistic and oftentimes destructive impulses such as drugs, or meaningless sexual encounters – while some favour the wholesome yet potentially mundane approach of raising a family, furthering their career, or even stamp collecting.

In his youth, Matthew Mara – or Rickety Cricket, as he’s since elected to embrace – chose to fill that unwanted aperture with his adoration of Dee Reynolds, albeit unrequited. As an adult, he filled that dull, aching void with his faith in a higher power, and since leaving the priesthood, he turned to pretty much any psychoactive substance he could get his hands on to make that gnawing nothingness a little easier to ignore.

****

The upside to living on the streets, if you could consider it an upside, is that a person can develop somewhat of a sixth sense with regards to self-preservation. The ability to assess and adapt to a situation becomes second nature – whether it’s honing your parkour skills to escape having a pair of sweaty balls dipped into your mouth, or to be aware of the fact that the guy who’s currently plowing your ass for a sixer isn’t going to grant you the concession of a courtesy reach-around.

As such, as Cricket sits at the feet of the Blessed Mother statue at Sacred Heart Church, enjoying a brief period of serenity with a bottle of what could potentially be scotch, or fermented rat piss, or both, and is approached by Dennis Reynolds, bearing an expression Cricket knows only too well – the thousand-yard stare and pallid hunger of a man desperate for a fix for his particular missing piece – Cricket understands without question what he wants, and how to work the situation to his advantage.

Logically speaking, the bulk of Cricket’s vitriol toward the Gang should be aimed squarely at Dee Reynolds. After all, without her assistance he may never have found himself sans job, house and faith. In truth though, he loathed Dennis above all the others; he wouldn’t piss on the guy if he were on fire. You see, Cricket hadn’t always been unconscious for Dennis’ own personal brand of torment, and the cool, casual manner in which Dennis would order his flunkies (well, Mac and Charlie) to hold him to the ground while he’d fill young Matthew Mara’s unwilling mouth with his testicles was unnerving, to say the least. To this day, whenever he closes his eyes for another fitful sleep under a pile of shit-encrusted sheets and soggy cardboard, he can still see the man’s taint – up close and in vivid detail.

And so, when Dennis asks, “I really need some crack, dude. Can you help me?” in as humble a manner as Dennis is capable, it fills Cricket with untold joy. Oh, how the worm has turned.

Blessings are few and far between for the fallen souls and lost sheep of this world. With a grateful glance and a silent prayer to the statue looming over them, Cricket rises to his feet. “Do I look like a man who has crack right now, Dennis? No. No, my friend, I do not. But,” he says, the provocative confidence of the potential-scotch taking over as he brazenly unzips his pants, “I can teach you how to work for it. Like a professional.”

Dennis’ expression is unreadable, but then, it often is. Perhaps presenting his dick in all its strawberry blond glory to the Gang’s resident sociopath isn’t his wisest manoeuvre, but the tantalising prospect of finally getting one over on the vainglorious cunt is just too delectable to pass up. Besides which, he’d been horny as all holy fuck ever since Mick the Dick (a misnomer; the guy is hung like a button mushroom) left him hanging after that apeshit rottweiler chased them out of the junkyard this afternoon. He’d been planning to rub one out for closure but then had happened upon the bottle of possibly-scotch-possibly-piss, and decided to just get good and wasted instead. The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inability to prioritise.

For a fleeting moment, Cricket fears for his life – or at the very least, his dong. But Dennis’ all-consuming thirst for the sweet embrace of euphoria overcomes all – just like Cricket knows it will – and he drops to his knees without so much as a whisper. There is nothing on God’s green earth as desperate and pathetic as a man jonesing for a score; it’s a sentiment Cricket can relate to only too well. If it were anyone other than Dennis _“Hold Him Still, Boys”_ Reynolds down there, he’d feel a smidgen of guilt.

Dennis reaches out with a shaking hand, and Cricket, revelling in the alluring sensation of being in control for once in his miserable life, cannot help but goad the man. “It’s not gonna suck itself,” he says with a chuckle. “And don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. It’s clean; I showered in your leaky urinal this morning.”

A grimace flits across Dennis’ handsome features, but he obeys, taking Cricket’s stiffening cock into his mouth with all the daintiness of an aristocrat trying a chilli dog for the first time. It’s a good look for him, Cricket has to admit.

As Dennis closes his eyes and gets to work, Cricket embraces the feeling of Dennis’ smooth tongue dancing along the underside of his dick; the man has potential, but he could be so, _so_ much better. Before he gets too carried away, he withdraws his cock, and slaps Dennis across the cheek with it.

Dennis shifts on his knees and licks his lips. If Cricket didn’t know any better, he’d think the hubristic prick was actually enjoying this. Shit, is he? Fuck it. He’s past caring at this point. “You’re pretty good,” Cricket says. “But I’m gonna need you to look at me this time.”

Dennis diligently complies, and as their eyes meet, Cricket can swear he sees the faintest flicker of a smirk as the man’s lips close around his dick once more.

With noticeable enthusiasm, Dennis gets down to business, and Cricket can only suppose that Dennis’ collection of homemade sex tapes has been put to excellent use over the years, because the fucker eats cock like a first-rate whore. Cricket could blow his load right now – stand tall and proud and watch with glee as Dennis swallows every drop, but it’s not nearly enough penance, not yet.

He grabs a fistful of Dennis’ surprisingly soft hair – but then, all clean hair seems soft, to a man of the streets – and yanks his head back so that Dennis pulls off with an obscene slurping pop.

“Not bad, Dennis,” Cricket breathes. “Now, let’s try with no hands.”

An unmistakable smirk this time, as Dennis clasps his hands together and rests them upon his lap like a debutante at cotillion. Asshole.

With both hands tangled in Dennis’ hair, Cricket eases back into the succulent warmth of his waiting mouth – pushing himself to the hilt with a grunt. Dennis visibly gags, but that only spurs Cricket to drive harder, and as he begins to move, he loses himself to his own rhythm – luxuriating in the slick, heady thwack of his balls smacking against Dennis’ chin. Goddamn, he looks fucking pretty on his knees.

Dennis is squirming now, the bulge between his legs indisputable as he attempts to grope himself through his jeans. It stands to reason the twisted son of a bitch would be getting off on this, and if Cricket gave anything resembling a shit, he’d allow the poor guy to unzip and tend to himself. But fuck that. Fuck Dennis Reynolds. Fuck the years he’d spent trying to forget the pungent flavour of this cocksucker’s hairy balls. Fuck high school; fuck the taunts and insults; fuck everything. Fuck you, Dennis Reynolds. _Fuck you._

As a lifetime of pent-up aggression and past malefactions build up inside of him, Cricket can take no more. Dennis’ eyes are watering and his formerly sallow complexion is flushed a deep crimson. He’s moaning around his mouthful – all reddened lips and saliva – and _Christ_ he looks fucking fantastic like this. There’s no question about the fact that he’s good to go – ready to earn himself a fix like the rest of God’s rejects, and Cricket is there, he’s just fucking _there-_

As one final gesture of goodwill, Cricket pulls out with a groan and unloads all over Dennis’ face, making sure to aim a little towards that lustrous silken hair. His work concluded, he cannot help but cackle at the masterful manner in which the viscous substance clings to all of Dennis’ best features: his chiselled cheekbones, those obnoxiously long eyelashes and that irresistible, hardworking mouth. It truly is a sight to behold.

_Now you’re fucking pretty, bitch._

**Author's Note:**

> I can only apologise; I had no intention of claiming another prompt but this song came on the radio and here we are. That said, I had a shitload of fun writing newly homeless Cricket with [Blasphemy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14618607), and I’ve been itching to try my hand at depraved street rat Cricket – so bless you for this prompt, whoever you may be.
> 
> [okimi79.tumblr.com](http://okimi79.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Made it this far? Want a visual? Of course you fucking do.](http://riddlelvr.tumblr.com/post/174673112893/blessings-are-few-and-far-between-for-the-fallen)


End file.
